Paint Me a Sexy Portrait
by Aka.Neko13
Summary: It was a normal day for Germany, until Italy asked him to model for a nude portrait and other things. A smut story conceived during 3 a.m. in the morning, also OOC Italy (with viable reason to that). This story contains sex, so don't read if you don't like it.
**WARNING: OOC CHARACTERS AND SEX SCENE AHEAD, IN SHORT, A SMUTTY STORY! ENTER WITH CAUTION!**

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It was a normal day for the Axis Powers, as the sun dips on the west, and the sunlight lengthens the shadows, the training session of Japan and Italy are also drawing for a close. Germany, the de facto leader of the Axis Powers, would always end the session with a jog around the outskirts of the town where the blonde nation's house is located; and, as always, Italy would always run away, either because he sense an Allied country nearby, or to pet a cat that happens to pass by; and today was no exception.

After sensing England spying close, the Mediterranean nation ran as fast as his legs would carry him; Germany, being the strict person that he is, ordered Japan to take care of the spy and raced after Italy. After a few moments of sprinting and dodging, he caught up with the runaway, who is now at the town square and crouching down, petting a Russian Blue cat. As the German closed in on the Italian, he saw that the nation was apparently talking to it, but his voice is so low that Germany could not understand one word. Anger, mixed with Germany's patience wearing thin, forced him to knock the unsuspecting nation out.

He picked up the now unconscious Italy, and carried him back to his house. While on the way, Germany tried to deny the fact that Italy's hands, because of how the nation was slumped on the man's shoulder, are softly slapping his buttocks. His composed disposition was broken when he felt that the slapping became kneading, and, as he thought, Italy was awake and kneading his butt; but instead of the usual 'Ve~ what are these soft things that I'm touching? Oh, it's just Germany's butt.' his response is quite, no, very much, different from the usual,

"Ve~, Germany's butt feels nice! I just want to keep kneading it, he he he," the auburn-haired nation said and chuckled.

"What are you saying? Are you drunk, or something?" the blonde asked with his eyebrows up, even though Italy couldn't see them.

"Nope, just enjoying the feeling of your nice ass; makes me want to draw a portrait of you," the Italian replied.

Germany nearly choked on air as his face turned 50 shades of red. While walking the path to his house, he was asking himself what just happened. ' _What the fuck is Italy talking about? Did he accidentally drink any liquor as he stopped at the square?'_ he asked himself. _'That's impossible, dummkopf_ [1] _! That guy can handle his liquor well!'_ was his own answer to his own question. _'Maybe he was drugged?'_ he thought, _'Possible, but until I've inspected him, I can't be sure.'_

When the two of them reached the house, they saw a note tacked on the door. Germany took it and read its contents. The note was from Japan, saying that he has apprehended England and will send him to the nearest prison. He sighed and a small smile formed on his lips, as expected from Japan, he can be trusted with this kind of tasks. _Unlike this guy_ , he said to himself as he entered his home.

Upon entering, Germany immediately went to the stairs, proceeded to Italy's room, and placed the unconscious nation on the bed. He was about to leave the room when, the Italian called out his name softly, and, was that a _lusty tone_ there!? The German turned around and saw that Italy had took his art supplies and is setting them up. After setting up the easel, Italy stood up and walked towards Germany, "Be my model, please? You're perfectly sculpted body is what I'm lusting to draw at the moment. So, please, be my model?" he said as he traced a finger on Germany's broad chest.

Germany blushed and pushed Italy away. When he has composed himself, he held Italy on the shoulders and looked at him with piercing eyes, "Italy, are you high on drugs?" he asked seriously.

The Italian bursts with laughter when he had properly processed the question, " _Mio Dio_ [2] _,_ Germany! Why would you think I would do that? I'm just asking you to be my model!"

"Wh-what are you?" the German spluttered. "B-b-but the way you are acting earlier only has three explanations! One, you are crazy, which I know for a fact that you aren't; two, you are drunk, which is impossible because I know your alcohol tolerance is quite high; and three, you're on drugs, which I don't know if you are."

"If drawing is a drug, I want to get addicted and crave for it. I haven't painted or sketched for a long time, and seeing your beautiful body inspired me to draw. So please, be my model?" Italy said as his fingers ghosted on the German's sides.

' _I'll only be a model; nothing can go wrong, right?'_ is what Germany thought. After thinking about it, he gave a small nod and agreed to do it.

Italy gave a whoop of excitement, ran to his easel, and ordered the blonde to stand in front of him and take his clothing off. Germany's blush returned and practically yelled at the man in front of him, "Take my clothes off!? Are you insane!? I can't do something an exhibitionist like France could do!"

"How can I draw your body if you won't take all of them off!? Just think that you're preparing for an afternoon siesta! Now, take 'em off!" Italy said with a hint of an expression that's new to Germany, annoyance.

After a moment, he reluctantly shed the workout clothes that he would usually wear, but left his boxers intact. Italy, still sporting an annoyed look, pointed with a charcoal at the last article of clothing Germany have, and slowly made a downwards motion with his hand, indicating that he should take them off as well. When the German nation refused, Italy stomped to the man, knelt down at his groin and yanked down the red boxers (a gift from Italy).

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING ITALY!?" Germany screamed and tried to pull his boxers up, but was prevented by the Italian's hand and piercing eyes.

Those honey eyes, which were usually closed, are now looking up at the blonde nation with pure annoyance, which made him shiver and silently obey what the Italian want. After seeing that the German will obey him, Italy stood up and began to set Germany's body to the position that he's imagining; starting from the head, down to his trunk and arms, and lastly, the German's lower extremities.

When he has finished positioning Germany, he did something that made the blonde's mind go haywire, he kissed the German's limp member before going to his easel. "That is your advance payment," Italy whispered on his ear. He was frozen in place while the Italian sketched away, a small smile on his lips. When he regained the ability to think straight, he decided to confront Italy, but, even with the slightest lowering of his arm, a charcoal or a piece of bread, used as an eraser, came flying at his direction. He decided to talk to him after he finished what he's doing, or risk another flying baguette hitting his head.

Italy sketched professionally; he is not ashamed to look at the Germany, who is blushing like hell. He tried to make his sketch as realistic as he could, drawing every detail that he could see. He always saw the German topless or only with his boxers on, but never totally naked. As he kept on sketching, he marvelled at the person in front of him, and wondered, _'This man is so perfect, but is he good in bed as well?'_

When he finished his work, Italy happily jumped up and down, before turning the easel around for the German to see, "It's done! Look Germany, it's so perfect!"

Germany was speechless with what he saw, every detail of his body was perfectly captured on the portrait, even his scars that he doesn't like added to the beauty of the portrait. "Beautiful," was the only thing that he said. What Germany didn't saw is that Italy had sneaked around him, and hugged him from the back, "It is, isn't it? I told you, you were perfect."

Germany tried to pry the Italian's hand off his naked chest, but he was stopped when Italy moved his face close to his ear and whispered, "Now for your full payment." Italy's hand went down to the German's crotch slowly, "You can do whatever you want with me."

A very dark blush bloomed on Germany's cheek as Italy touched his limp member, which became erect after a few pumps. He tried to push away Italy, but a bite on his neck and being not able to do any sexual acts to relieve him of his desires made his defences crumble. "Don't blame me if you wouldn't like it," he said as he turned around, picked the Italian up, laid him on the bed, and ripped the man's clothes off. Italy may not be as muscular as his brother, but he certainly is fit.

Germany ran his hand up the Italian's chest and pinched his nipple, which made the other moan. He chuckled as he trailed his hand down to the man's semi-erect member. With just the slight touch, Italy's member became fully erect.

Italy's moans echoed throughout the small room as Germany jerked him off. His moans were muffled when the German atop him sealed their lips together; the blonde easily slipping his tongue inside the Italian's mouth, and wrestled with his tongue. And as Germany keeps on stroking Italy's member, the Italian decided to repay him with the same treatment.

The two of them stayed like this, stroking each other and kissing, until Germany broke off, and took something from the bedside table drawer; it was lotion. As Germany spread a liberal amount on his hand, Italy's eyes sparkled with delight. When the first finger was pressed into the Italian, he took a deep breath through his teeth, but urged Germany to keep going when the blonde stopped. Germany continued what he's doing, and added a second finger, stretching the Italian's hole wide.

When he deemed it worthy, Germany took of his fingers, applied a liberal amount of the lotion on his hands, and slicked his throbbing member with it. Italy's eyes widened as he indulged himself to the view of Germany moving his hand up and down his shaft, licking his lips and imagining what would it feel if that thick, juicy 'wurst' enters him.

When Germany was satisfied, he aligned himself to Italy, and looked at the Italian for confirmation. Italy smiled and nodded, spreading his ass wide. Germany steeled himself, and slowly entered the smaller nation.

"More… deeper… _Mio Dio_ , more!" the Italian said in between moans. His voice was cut short as he arched his back when Germany has entered him fully, perfectly hitting his sweet spot.

"I'm moving…" Germany said softly, gradually losing himself to the feel of Italy's insides clamping down on him. He first moved slowly, still giving time for Italy to adjust to the intrusion. His movement became faster and rougher when he can't hold it longer, pulling out with only the tip inside, then thrusting in immediately. As for Italy, he became a moaning mess; clutching at the sheets as he called out Germany's human name.

The room was filled with their voices and the sounds their bodies made, which the Italian loved. The sensory overload became too unbearable for Italy, every time Germany thrusts in, he felt his climax coming closer and closer, and when it did came, he released all of it with a loud moan, spilling his essence on his and Germany's stomach, and then slumping down, totally spent. Germany's climax came afterwards, bursting inside Italy whilst shouting out the other's name.

The two of them laid at the bed afterwards, tired but elated, with Italy lying down on Germany's chest. "You know, we should do this more often, no?" Italy asked, his voice hoarse from all the screaming and moaning, before falling to sleep.

"If it fits our schedule," Germany replied, not noticing that Italy had fallen asleep, but when he did, he just kissed the Italian's head and whispered, " _guten Nacht, mein liebling Italien_ ," [3] before falling asleep as well.

* * *

 _Allied Forces Summit at the Kremlin, Moscow_

The Allied Forces just finished their meeting held at Russia's place. While China is cooking for their lunch, and America, France and Canada are touring the Kremlin, England and Russia remained at the meeting hall; England sorting out files into 'Important', 'Not So Important', and 'America', and Russia just sitting on his seat (the beaten-up Busby's Chair), helping the Briton with his work.

England is cutting up the 'America' files into strips and squares to be made decorative paper mats and origami, when Russia, who was placing the 'Important' and 'Not So Important' on steel cabinets, said "Ludwig, Feli, and Kiku must be having the time of their lives right now~."

England looked up from his work with a raised eyebrow, "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, I met Italy earlier and gave him a sample of the new 'perfume' I was making~," Russia said, smiling as he walked towards England and gave him a small vial of liquid.

England took the vial, thinking hard about the real nature of Russia's 'perfume'. He opened the glass vial and took a whiff of its contents. England's eyes grew wide when he understood the true nature of the 'perfume'. "You… YOU DRUGGED ITALY!?"

"I don't know what you're saying, England, I just gave Feli a sample and left for the meeting~," Russia said, his smile still in place, "It will be for your own good if this conversation does not go out, da? ~"

England shivered as his eyes followed Russia's back as the man exited the room, silently praying that Italy hasn't used the perfume, or at least taken a whiff out of it.

- _The End...?_

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Trans:

1\. (Ger.) Idiot

2\. (It.) My God

3\. (Ger.) Good night, my dear Italy

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A/n: Mein Gott! Why did I forget this even exists!? Well, this is what happens when I write at 3 a.m., too much craziness happens, hope you liked it!


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